


and something reminds you (you wish you had stayed)

by virtuemoir29



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 17:38:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17708714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtuemoir29/pseuds/virtuemoir29
Summary: She wants him. She wants him to want her, to kiss her senseless. And surprisingly, no matter how many people may not believe them, they really haven’t ever kissed before.





	and something reminds you (you wish you had stayed)

She really shouldn't be doing this.

 

She shouldn't be watching a man out of the corner of her eye, darting her tongue out to moisten her lips as he carves his blades into the ice. To her credit, it's not her fault she's eyeing his skating skills like a hawk. The man makes falling look graceful - especially that one time he tripped, proceeded to lay on his side in a model pose, and it was all she could do not to post the picture with the caption, "Draw me like one of your French girls."

 

That's something she doesn't tell anyone (except maybe Marie, who had laughed along with her, tried to upload the photo, and Tessa practically had to manhandle her so she wouldn't). 

 

Maybe her and Marie are more similar than she originally realized - dramatic, sassy, and just a hint revengeful (Scott had once threatened to post a ridiculous photo of her sitting on the ice, legs spread in a straddle after first trying twizzles). 

 

 _It really isn't my fault,_ she failingly tries to convince herself. 

 

Really, it  _is_ one of the things she admires most about him. Tessa had always been jealous of his blade control since they started skating together, and it would take years for her to realize that he felt the same way toward her dancing skills.

 

 _"You make me look like an uncoordinated pigeon, T. It isn't fair,"_ he had pouted once, and she laughed, shaking her head at him. 

 

It's that memory that snaps her back to reality (that, and Marie's repeated yelling of her name over the boards). 

 

"You must have hunger in your eyes, ma cherie. It's for the program," her coach instructs, in reference to their Latin short dance, and she nods, turning to cover her smirk. 

 

That’s what she thinks of when she looks at him - pure, unadulterated want for a man she just can’t have.

 

_Or can she?_

 

He’s standing across from her, drawing his lower lip between his teeth as he concentrates on what Patrice is saying to him. Tessa’s always admired his drive, his commitment to always being the best. Sometimes, though, he’s focused to a fault.

 

 _And that,_ she muses, _just won’t do._

 

Brushing it off, she strokes over to him, lips dangerously close to the shell of his ear, and murmurs, "I bet you $10 you can't do a run-through of this program without kissing me."

 

If Patrice hears, well, that's his problem. 

 

And, in the end, she's right - in one of their lifts, he presses a wet kiss to her neck, his breath hot against her skin. Her breath hitches, and his smug expression is all it takes for her to jokingly whisper, "Fuck off, cheater." 

 

"C'est bon!" Marie shouts, clapping her hands together when they reach the ending pose. 

 

When they're back in the dressing rooms, she nudges his shoulder. "Hand it over, cowboy."

 

The bill is later used for her lunch. 

 

She invites him over to her apartment the next day. 

 

There’s consequences, she knows. Of course there are - the chance that he could not like her back, that it could jeopardize their partnership, that it could -

 

“T! What’s going on in that crazy head of yours?” Tessa hears him shout, and she almost laughs. It’s almost comical how well he knows her.

 

Instead of giving him an answer, though, she looks at him square on, meeting his eyes. With as much confidence as she can muster, she walks over to him, placing both hands on his shoulders. Her heart is in her throat, desire crashing against the underside of her ribs.

 

“Tess, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?” Scott pleads, and then, with her stomach doing flips, she climbs into his lap, and presses her lips to his.

 

Her hand instantly tangles in his hair, and his follows suit, tugging gently at the strands. She moans into his mouth, quietly, but it’s there, and he growls low in his throat.

 

And then he breaks away, his eyes black with desire.

 

“We can’t do this.” Scott blurts, and her heart shatters.

 

“Don’t you want me? Does that not give you butterflies? Leave you wanting more?” She asks, running her hand over his toned bicep.

 

“Yes. Fuck, Tessa, of course I want you.” Scott murmurs, brushing a soft thumb over her bottom lip.

 

“Then take me,” she whispers, and he slots his lips against hers, and it feels right.

 

It feels like home.


End file.
